Government Hooker
by WritingIsTheMostFun
Summary: Kurt was only visiting the address on the card to satisfy a bit of curiosity. Well, that's what he liked to tell himself.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello all! Welcome to yet another story of mine. This one, unlike the last few that I've published (and like the first one that I definitely _haven't _abandoned) is multichaptered! Woo! As you may be able to tell from the title, this was inspired by Lady Gaga's Government Hooker. Can you tell that a lot of my inspiration comes from music? Anyway, I'm going to try to make regular updates, but I can't make any promises. Without further ado, on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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><p>Kurt Hummel was awake well before he bothered to open his eyes and acknowledge the sun's overly bright rays. Clear blue eyes stared up at the ceiling before turning to take in the beauty of Central Park in the early morning light.<p>

Kurt laid in bed for a few minutes, simply enjoying the view of this random expanse of nature in the otherwise concrete jungle that is New York City.

It was during these early hours of the day, when most other people were still fast asleep, that Kurt usually took the opportunity to reflect on his life. Today was one of the days that Kurt was quite satisfied with himself.

At twenty-six, he was one of the youngest executives for one of the most prestigious and exclusive luxury suit retailers in the world. Rheinhold & Co. prided itself in not only hiring the best of the best when it came to having a business-savvy mind, but also those who had an eye for fashion.

Had someone came to Kurt while he was still a cheeky high school senior and told him that he wouldn't be belting out tunes written specifically for him on Broadway, he probably would have laughed in their face and left them with a cutting remark.

Now, Kurt was quite happy with the turn that his life had taken. He had much more control over his career now that he was working with his life's second-greatest passion. As one of the top marketing executives for Rheinhold & Co., it was Kurt's responsibility to make the brand known across the country, while still keeping it exclusive to only the richest of the rich.

Kurt sighed and rolled out of bed, reluctant to leave the warmth of his bed. He relished the feel of the plush carpet greeting his toes but much preferred the warmth of his down comforter wrapped around him.

No matter how much Kurt loved his job, he would never be a morning person.

As Kurt walked into his bathroom and turned his shower on, he mentally went over all of the meetings that he had for the day.

By the time Kurt was showered and dressed, he'd ignored three phone calls from his assistant, no doubt to tell him that one of his meetings was either pushed back, pushed up or cancelled. He decided that it was time to take pity on the poor girl and see what she wanted.

Kurt finally answered his phone when it rang for the fourth time and was greeted with the all-too-frantic voice of his assistant.

"Mr. Hummel, thank _god _you've finally answered!"

"Yes, Rachel, I figured that there must be a reason for you to abuse my phone at such an ungodly hour of the morning."

"I'm so sorry about that, sir, but this is an emergency."

Kurt grimaced at this. There was _always _an emergency at the office. He wondered who screwed up this time.

"Well don't just waste my time breathing into the phone. What's gone wrong now?"

"Sorry, sir! Mr. Karofsky has pushed the 10 A.M. meeting up to 8:30 A.M. and it's already 8:07 A.M. sir!"

Kurt swore under his breath as he checked his watch. He'd never make it to the office on time. Traffic was bound to be hell at this point and the only way that Kurt would have a chance of making the meeting was to speed like there was no tomorrow.

And that's exactly what he planned to do.

"Well, it looks like I'll see you at 8:30 A.M. sharp." Kurt hung up before Rachel could get another word in.

He shook his head at his overzealous assistant's panic. She really seemed to be at one extreme or another at all times.

The drive to the office was short and slightly dangerous. If it weren't for the fact that Kurt clearly drove a Lexus, his hazardous driving would have gotten him mistaken for a New York City Taxi.

Kurt pulled into his reserved parking spot in the company's garage, made it onto the elevator, and finally walked into the boardroom with exactly three minutes to spare.

"Ah, Mr. Hummel," David Karofsky was seated at the head of the table, doing nothing to hide the mildly smug look on his face as he casually glanced at his watch.

"How nice of you to join us. I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't make it to this morning's meeting."

Kurt fought back his sneer as he took his seat between two of the older executives. He ignored their curious looks and chose to settle himself.

"Well, it's the strangest thing. I strictly remember this meeting being scheduled to take place two hours from now. I guess you forgot to let me know of its change in a timely fashion. After all, isn't it _your _responsibility to let all executives know of a change in schedule at least twenty-four hours in advance?"

Kurt mentally smirked as he watched the smug look fade from Karofsky's face.

"Now that we've gotten that straightened out, shall we commence with the meeting?"

No one needed to be told twice and everyone immediately sprang into action, eager to please Kurt, lest they find themselves at the wrong end of his unforgiving ridicule.

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><p>After a morning of useless meetings, an uneventful lunch, and an afternoon of more useless meetings, Kurt welcomed 5 'o' clock with open arms. He was thankful that it was Friday so he could sleep off the exhaustion of another tiring work week tomorrow morning.<p>

Kurt said his goodbye's to the few coworkers that he actually liked, noting Karofsky's unusual absence as we walked to the elevator. Usually, he had to put up with the brute of a man trying to fit in a few more snide comments before they left for the weekend. No matter, that was just one less thing that Kurt would have to deal with before he was free of the office building.

Before Kurt made it to his car, his phone rang. Mercedes' name flashed across the screen and Kurt was pleasantly surprised. He hadn't heard from his best friend in a little over a week because, as the head of the International Division, Mercedes was extremely busy with a new project that involved getting Rheinhold & Co. into the European market.

"Hey, stranger," Kurt answered with a smile.

"Hey yourself! I heard about that little stunt you pulled this morning. Showing up Karofsky first thing in the morning? Mr. Hummel, I am impressed."

Kurt could practically hear Mercedes' teasing smile through the phone.

"Yes, well, you know me. I don't take kindly to those who try to make a fool of me. I merely exposed only a fraction of the hideous personality that he tries to hide beneath an equally hideous exterior."

"Mhmm, I hear that. So, what are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing special," Kurt finally reached his car and fumbled to find his keys. He could never locate them as quickly as he would have liked. "I'll probably just grab some take-out and watch old movies until I pass out. I think My Fair Lady is supposed to be on tonight."

"Oh no, that just won't do at all. How about you come with me to that new bar that just opened downtown. From what I've heard, it's supposed to be better than The Crane."

"Better than The Crane? Aha! Found them! Sorry, I just found my keys. But seriously? Nothing is better than The Crane."

"Ahh that's what they all say. So you'll meet me there to find out, right? Be there at eight. I'll see you later!" Mercedes hung up without waiting for a reply.

Kurt sighed and couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips. He knew that he would end up going to the bar. He and Mercedes hadn't spent much time together lately and he _was _a little curious about the bar.

He checked the clock in his dashboard and saw that it was already 5:30pm.

'Well, I won't be able to make it through my whole routine before I go out, but I'll make do.'

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><p>Two hours and a few drinks later, Kurt and Mercedes were in deep discussion about the benefits of going with tweed instead of cotton for Rheinhold &amp; Co.'s fall collection.<p>

"No, no, no. You simply can't expect to gain sales from tweed suits when it's been so unseasonably warm this year. If we go with a more breathable cotton then we won't have to worry about our customers sweating through their clothes." Mercedes was steadily sipping her drink as Kurt tried to explain his reasoning.

"I see what you're saying, but with a tweed suit will last longer. It's the perfect option for when the weather finally does get colder, it's more durable than cotton and it's a nice break from all of the more toned down suits that our customers usually buy. Besides, I know how much you enjoy being ahead of our competitors. We set the trends, not follow them." Mercedes smiled when Kurt didn't respond immediately. She knew she'd won this round.

"Yes, well. That's enough about work. Did you really drag me all the way here just to talk about our fall collection?"

"Of course not, silly!" Mercedes paused to finish her drink. Kurt finished his as well and signaled for the bartender to bring them another round. He wasn't one for copious alcohol consumption but he figured he and his best friend have earned a few rounds after all their hard work.

"I, as you so carefully put it 'dragged you here,' simply because I want to spend quality time with my best friend while enjoying the town's latest new addition to the already spectacular nightlife."

"And...?" Something about the way Mercedes kept looking at her drink with more interest than was necessary made Kurt think that 'quality time' wasn't the only reason for their outing.

"And...well, I was just wondering if you had given any thought to seeing anyone."

Kurt forced back a monstrous sigh and settled for rolling his eyes at Mercedes' statement. This was _not _what he had in mind for his Friday night.

"'Cedes, we've already been over this. Though this obviously isn't the time, nor is it the place to have such a conversation, I will say, for the umpteenth time that I'm quite happy where I am and I don't need anyone else for that happiness."

Mercedes' face fell and Kurt immediately regretted his choice of words.

"Come on, you know I love you. You're my partner in crime." Kurt nudged Mercedes' shoulder gently, trying to coax a smile out of her. "But I don't need anyone else. I'm happy flying solo for now. Besides, as long as I have you, what more could I want?"

Mercedes chanced a look up at Kurt. He could see that she still wanted to say more but she just smiled and returned to her drink.

"You're right. I'm just being silly."

"And I love you for it. So, enough about my nonexistent love life. What about yours?"

At the sudden change in direction of the conversation, Mercedes immediately busied herself with taking long, slow sips of her drink. If she were too busy drinking, she wouldn't have to answer the question.

"Oh no you don't!" Kurt teased, prying the glass from Mercedes' hand. "You don't get to avoid the topic, Miss Jones."

"...Well, since you've asked, do you remember the guy that I hired to extend the closet in my guest bedroom?"

"Yeah, I remember you practically running into my office the Monday after that weekend to gush about what a hottie he is. What was his name? Shaun? Scott?"

"Sam. Sam Evans. Well, he did a great job with the closet in that room so I figured he could extend the closet in the master bedroom as well. Which he did. But, before he left after that second job, he asked me out on a date."

"What?" Kurt quickly quieted himself since he earned several alarmed looks from other patrons around the bar. "What? That's great! Wait, how did that even happen?"

"Oh, well, while he was working, he noticed my record collection. So, we got to talking and it turns out that we have a lot in common, at least, musically."

"Ahh, I see. So when's the big day?"

"Next Friday. Do you mind if I stop by beforehand? You know I can't go out on a date without running my outfit by you."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Kurt said with a smile.

The conversation continued in the same fashion. The topics jumped from the atrocities that the pair saw people wearing in the bar to the best way to clean a pair of suede boots. Before they knew it, midnight was upon them.

"Jeeze, I can't believe we've been here all night," Mercedes said, as she gathered her belongings.

"I know, but I have to admit, this wasn't a bad way to spend my Friday night. It sure beats sitting at home eating greasy food and watching television alone."

"See, I told you it was a good idea!" Mercedes smiled triumphantly and Kurt found himself joining her. "Okay, I'm going to go to the ladies' room before we head out. I'll be right back."

Kurt nodded his acknowledgement and watched his friend disappear into the crowd. He was just making himself comfortable in one of the empty seats near the exit when he felt a presence next to him.

"God, I thought she'd never leave."

"Excuse me?" Kurt turned to see a woman sitting next to him. From what he could make out in the bar's limited lighting, she wore a red, low-cut cocktail dress and had her long, dark hair pulled back over her opposite shoulder. She only wore one piece of jewelry, a single diamond on a silver chain. Kurt supposed that it was meant to draw attention to her ample cleavage.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Kurt noted that she didn't sound the least bit apologetic. "Is this seat taken?" Without waiting for a response, the woman took up residence in Mercedes' recently vacated seat.

Kurt had no idea what this woman wanted from him and he didn't particularly care to find out. He just wanted Mercedes to hurry up in the bathroom so that they could be on their way.

"Now, I'll make this quick since I'm sure that your friend will be returning any minute. From what I can see, and from what I've gathered in my adventures in eavesdropping, you're in desperate need of a good lay. Luckily for you, I can get you exactly that."

Kurt had to stop himself from snorting. He knew that he wasn't the most flamboyant gay man in the world, not by a long shot, but usually, it wasn't difficult for people to pick up on his orientation. So, Santana's apparent eavesdropping on his and Mercedes' conversation and her subsequent decision to hit on him made Kurt think that she was either incredibly determined or incredibly dense. He wasn't sure which was worse.

"Look, before you say anything more, I'll just stop you right there. You're beautiful, but you're definitely not my type." Kurt tried to look apologetic and found himself failing. Instead, he settled on studying his cuticles, silently willing Mercedes' swift return.

"Oh, sweetie, I'm flattered. But you've got the wrong idea. You see," Santana shifted a little closer, completely breaching Kurt's boundaries to what he considered personal space. "I run a business that specializes in helping people, usually wound-up businessmen like yourself, relieve all that pent up...tension." The way she practically breathed the last word into Kurt's ear let him know exactly what sort of 'tension' she was talking about. The woman leaned back and held out a business card for Kurt to take.

'Where on earth did she pull that from?' Kurt thought distractedly.

"Believe me when I say that my business caters to _everyone's _needs. Even yours." The woman winked and before Kurt could respond, she'd gotten up and was immediately swallowed by the crowd. Kurt glanced at the business card in his hand.

_Masquerade  
><em>_See anyone. Be anyone.  
><em>_333 Sub Rosa Street  
><em>_New York, NY 10017_

"Kurt!" The man in question's head shot up at the sound of his name, and he immediately shoved the card into his back pocket.

"Hey, what happened? Did you get lost?"

"Oh god, the line was an absolute nightmare!" Mercedes exclaimed. "I waited for ten minutes without moving so much as an inch. In the end, I decided to use the men's bathroom."

"Oh, how I would have loved to see the looks on those guys' faces."

"They were a small price to pay for the immediate relief of my bladder."

The pair chuckled as they stepped out of the club and walked to the end of the block.

"All right, hon, it was great to finally catch up with you." Kurt leaned in for a hug, smiling when it was returned with enthusiasm.

"Yes, it was! We definitely need to get together again next week, preferably before my date."

"I agree. Text me when you get home so that I know you're safe," Kurt called before they parted ways.

"I will!" Mercedes gave one last wave before turning and heading to where her own car was parked.

Kurt couldn't help but smile throughout his drive back to his apartment. He was really glad that he got a chance to catch up with his best friend. His phone buzzed to let him know that Mercedes made it home safely. Kurt typed out a quick response and went about readying himself for bed.

The last thought Kurt had before his head hit the pillow was how happy he was for the arrival of the weekend, completely oblivious to the business card that still sat in the back pocket of his discarded pants.

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><p><strong>AN: And there you have chapter one. To be honest, this was a lot longer than I anticipated but some things decided to appear out of nowhere and I incorporated them as best as I could. Thanks for reading and please let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again! I just want to thank all of you who have added this story to your Favorites/Alerts. You guys are the best! I actually planned to have this up by Wednesday but life got in the way. Funny how that happens. Anyway, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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><p>Saturday morning crept up on Kurt's sleeping form in the last moments before he was abruptly returned to the realm of the conscious by his phone ringing far too loudly.<p>

Kurt swore violently, plotting the slow and painful death of the unlucky soul that dared to wake him so early after a night of (moderate) drinking. However, before he could carry out his plan of execution, Kurt needed to answer his phone to find out exactly who he would be destroying.

"What?" Any semblance of manners that Kurt normally had when answering the phone was gone with what was left of his chance to sleep.

"Mr. Hummel," Rachel's voice, slightly more shrill than usual, made Kurt wince slightly. "I'm so sorry to call you, sir, but it's an emergency." Kurt wasn't too inclined to take Rachel's declaration seriously. This was the woman who classified Kurt receiving warm coffee instead of hot coffee as an emergency.

"Oh really? And what kind of emergency would require you to call me at seven in the morning on a Saturday?" Kurt didn't bother to hide his irritation and he could almost picture Rachel recoiling into herself, hesitant to incur his wrath.

"The International Division is holding a meeting about the company's state of affairs in Europe and all executives are to be there. The meeting starts at 8 a.m. sharp."

Kurt dragged himself into a sitting position and permitted himself a small sigh. It was just his luck that he'd be called into the office during the first free weekend he'd had in months.

"All right, thank you Rachel. I expect to have my usual coffee order waiting on my desk when I arrive." Kurt hung up without waiting for a reply.

After dragging himself out of bed and making his way to the bathroom, Kurt desperately wished for a clone so that he could just go back to sleep. Kurt stepped into the shower, and was immediately assaulted by the not-quite-hot-enough spray of water. It was going to be an extremely long day.

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><p>Kurt was just getting into the elevator of the parking garage to go up to his office when a hand suddenly stopped the doors from closing.<p>

Kurt almost swore when the doors opened to reveal the owner of that hand.

"Hummel."

"Karofsky," Kurt replied stiffly. This was not what he needed, first thing on a Saturday morning. Kurt all but plastered himself to the wall farthest from Karofsky. However, his efforts were futile considering the small size of the elevator. Kurt simply planned to ignore Karofsky while the elevator made its way up to the twentieth floor.

"Looks like someone had a rough night." Kurt refused to acknowledge Karofsky's goading and stared resolutely ahead at the display, indicating the elevator's passing of each floor.

"I guess that just goes to show who which one of us is truly dedicated to our job. After all, everyone knows better than to slack off so close to the release of a new collection. And that includes nights of wild partying. It's quite unprofessional, if you ask me."

"Ah, but that's just the thing," Kurt didn't deign to turn and face Karofsky as he spoke. "No one asked you at all. And, if I remember correctly, wasn't it _your _slacking off that almost cost us the half billion dollar deal with Feldman Department Stores just last quarter?" Kurt could see the gobsmacked expression plastered across Karofsky's face and felt his mood improve by a minute amount.

"You see, Karofsky, those of us who are in my position of power can go out and engage in 'wild nights of partying' because we have already proven ourselves to be dedicated to our work. People like you, on the other hand, will forever be required to slave away at your desk, well into the night. After all, how else are you going to make up for the constant mistakes that seem to follow you everywhere you go?"

Before Karofsky could respond, the elevator chimed and the doors opened, signaling their arrival. Kurt briskly made his way to his office, eager for his coffee, all the while feeling the hole that Karofsky was glaring into his back.

As Kurt expected, Rachel was already in his office, coffee and notes in hand. She handed Kurt his coffee and immediately began briefing him on the topic of the day's meeting as they made their way to the boardroom.

"It turns out that our biggest competitor, Fields & Cauldwell, is also planning on heading into Europe. Now, from last quarter's numbers, it's clear that Fields & Cauldwell, though having earned less than previous quarters, is still doing quite well and proposes a threat to our profits. So it's up to all of the executives from each department to come to an agreement about what the course of action the company will take."

The pair came to a stop at the boardroom and Rachel was looking expectantly at Kurt for any confirmation that he'd heard what she'd said.

"I see. Well then, it looks like we're in for another long day at the office. Splendid." Kurt checked his watch and handed Rachel his empty coffee cup. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to attempt to make this meeting a little less painful."

Rachel nodded and headed back to her cubicle outside of Kurt's office, presumably to get ahead on next week's workload.

Kurt took his usual seat in the boardroom and nodded at a few of his coworkers that were already present. The rest of the executives, including Karofsky, filed in and Kurt was grateful for the fact that this meeting was of the utmost important. There was no room for Karofsky's petty comments right now.

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><p>The day's meeting was long and stressful. Mercedes wasted no time in outlining various methods that could be used to prevent Fields &amp; Cauldwell from taking too much of the European market share. Suggestions were made, discussed, and shot down. It wasn't until well after 6 p.m. that all of the executives reached an agreement. The best thing for Rheinhold &amp; Co. to do at this point was to continue as scheduled and focus on heavy marketing once they've already entered Europe. It wasn't as aggressive as some would have liked but it was necessary to keep the current flow of business as stable as possible.<p>

Kurt sighed in relief as he finally waked into his apartment. Now, he could finally get some rest. But first, Kurt decided to tidy up a bit.

'Jeez, I must have been really out of it if I actually left my clothes strewn about,' Kurt thought.

As he picked up his pants, he saw something fall out of one of the pockets. Upon closer inspection, the events from the previous night, more specifically, what happened at the end of the night, came flooding back to Kurt as though a dam had been opened.

The woman's voice rang in Kurt's head as he remembered exactly what she'd implied while pressed up against him.

_'Believe me when I say that my business caters to everyones needs.'_

Kurt shook his head and tossed the business card into the trash bin beside his bed. He wasn't desperate enough to resort to _that. _Sure, outside of his professional life, things were a little slow, but Kurt prided himself in being above the constant need for sex that most men seem to have.

Kurt finished cleaning up and stood in his living room, somewhat at a loss for what to do next. He briefly entertained the thought of calling Mercedes but he quickly shot that idea down when he remembered that she was supposed to be in a conference call with overseas partners until the wee hours of the morning.

Kurt smiled softly as he remembered their conversation shortly after the day's meeting was over.

"_Mercedes, you can't possibly expect to take on all of this on your own. Why don't you get one of your assistants to do it for you? We both know how much they're dying for the chance to prove themselves to you."_

_Mercedes smiled at Kurt's statement, knowing that he was right. But she wasn't going to change her mind._

"_Kurt, I'm not doing this on my own. It's a company effort. But this meeting is really important. I know that it'll cost me a night's sleep but this was the only available time that they had so I have to take the chance when it's presented to me." Mercedes smiled reassuringly at her friend's concern. "Besides, it's only one meeting. I just need to get through this and then we'll be good to go."_

"_If you say so. Knock 'em dead, tiger."_

Kurt shook his head at his best friend's determination to get as much work done as possible no matter how exhausted she might be. The clock read 9:32 p.m. so Kurt figured that the would be well underway by now. Bringing himself back to his current situation, Kurt still had no idea what to do with himself.

"Well, I suppose eating might be a good place to start," Kurt said to himself. He shook his head at his own sad excuse for a Saturday night. Here he was, standing in front of his almost-empty refrigerator, contemplating whether or not the Chinese food in the back was still safe to eat.

Sighing with resignation, Kurt decided to try his luck. He stuck the food in the microwave and went back into his living room to see if there was anything worth watching on television.

While he flipped through countless channels, Kurt snorted to himself.

"Of course there's nothing on," he said to the empty room. "Everyone else is out having a life. Who would be home to watch TV?" Kurt chose to ignore the fact that he was actively talking to himself and retrieved his food from the microwave when it beeped.

Kurt flopped back onto the couch and settled for watching a rerun of an old sitcom. He steadily ignored the niggling feeling of interest that refused to dissipate ever since he rediscovered the business card.

Against his better judgement, Kurt went back into his bedroom and retrieved the business card from the trash bin. He was more than a little grateful that he'd just emptied it the day before, so there was almost nothing in it.

Kurt studied the card carefully as he made his way back into the living room. It was quite plain, with nothing but the name, motto and address on it. There wasn't even a phone number on the card nor was there anything printed on the back of it. Kurt was completely lost.

So, he sat there, on his couch, staring at the business card in his hands. The audience's laughter blared in the background, letting Kurt know that he'd missed the latest joke in the show. Kurt turned the card over in his hands, not even believing himself as he came to a decision.

"Maybe if I just go, I'll get this stupid feeling out of my system." After quickly polishing off the rest of his Chinese food, Kurt put on a pair of dark jeans and a grey sweater. He wasn't too sure what he was getting himself into but that was no excuse to look anything less than presentable. He stuffed the card into his pocket, shrugged on his jacket, and grabbed his keys before leaving his apartment.

During the entire elevator ride down to the garage and as Kurt entered the address into his car's navigation system, he couldn't help but feel as though he'd just made an awful decision.

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><p><strong>AN: And there you have chapter two. Until next time, dear readers!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello all! First, I'm sorry for taking so long with this chapter. Real Life got in the way (and I'm an awful procrastinator), but hey! I managed to bang this out. Second, I can't thank you all enough for the Alerting and Favoriting this story. It puts a smile on my face! Also, did anyone watch the Super Bowl yesterday? I'm so happy that the Giants won again. I'm still waiting for my Jets to bring home a trophy. Well, anyway, enough babbling and on with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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><p>Kurt couldn't believe what he was doing. Seriously, he could not <em>believe <em>what he was doing. During the drive to his unlikely destination, Kurt had a serious battle of wills with himself. On one hand, his more reasonable inner voice was berating him for actually going through with driving to this..._place._ A quick U-turn would have him heading back to the safety and sanity of his apartment.

On the other hand, Kurt was curious. He only wanted to take a look around and see exactly why Santana thought that it was a good idea to approach him. That's all this was, a quick trip so that his curiosity could be satisfied once and for all.

Kurt finally reached his destination and from his position in the driver's seat, he couldn't see much. He looked down at the business card and back up to the unobtrusive building. Surely this couldn't be the place.

'This just looks like some old warehouse,' Kurt thought to himself. He was just about to start up his car and head back home when something caught his eye.

A man was coming out of the building. Before he left, the man stopped at the doorway and seemed to be talking to someone. From his vantage point, Kurt could just barely make out that the man was talking to a woman. As the man said what Kurt assumed were the last of his goodbyes, the door didn't close. Instead, the door opened wider and Kurt found himself pinned under the smug gaze of the woman from the bar.

Had Kurt been a lesser man, he would have banged his head onto his steering wheel out of exasperation. He was planning on simply turning around and heading home but now that he'd been spotted, it seemed like a moot point. Besides, by the way the woman was leaning casually against the doorframe; Kurt figured that she was waiting specifically for him.

'Well, I might as well get this out of the way now,' Kurt sighed and turned off his car. Half of him wanted to take as long as possible in making his way across the street. The other half wanted to get there as quickly as possible so that he could put this whole bizarre situation behind him.

Kurt finally made it to the building and raised an eyebrow at the woman.

"Well, that certainly didn't take you very long. You must be even more in need than you let on." She didn't wait for Kurt's response. Instead, she turned and led Kurt into the building. The door shut automatically behind Kurt.

The woman led Kurt down a long, dimly lit hallway. The top half of the walls was lined with a deep red brocade material. The bottom half of the walls were made of a dark, almost black, mahogany. At first glance, the light source along the walls looked like torches but Kurt quickly realized that they were only lamps fashioned to look that way. Other than that, the walls were completely bare. So far, nothing really stood out to Kurt and he began to wonder whether he'd simply gotten the wrong idea about what sort of place this was. His thoughts were interrupted when the woman came to a sudden stop in front of him.

Kurt looked around and saw that they'd walked into an open space that strongly resembled a reception area. There was a large circular desk made from the same wood as that of the walls and Kurt could barely make out the top of a computer. Before Kurt could ask any questions, the woman began to speak again. He figured that he really should ask her name but quickly dismissed the thought. It wasn't like he'd ever be seeing her again.

"Right then, I realize that I never properly introduced myself since our first meeting was cut rather short. My name is Santana and I'd like to formally welcome you to the Masquerade Pleasure House. I am the owner and operator of this establishment and I pride myself in personally ensuring that each of my clients, old and new, leave here one hundred percent satisfied," she ended with a small wink and offered her hand.

'Well, I guess that clears everything up,' Kurt thought to himself. Whatever suspicions he had were confirmed and now Kurt's only mission was to leave the place as quickly as possible. He was not the type of person to lower himself to relying on a brothel, of all things.

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt replied, taking Santana's hand. "Thank you for that introduction but I'm only here to satisfy a bit of curiosity. Now that I know exactly what this place is, I'll just be on my way. So, if you'll excuse me," Kurt turned with his sights firmly set on the door at the end of the long hallway.

"Hm. It's funny that you would come all the way here just to leave after less than five minutes. If you truly wanted to satisfy your curiosity, you would have just looked us up online. I know for a fact that Google would have produced a few thousand results. That doesn't matter, though. I never would have pegged you for a coward."

Kurt could practically hear the smug grin in Santana's voice. She knew she'd got him. He knew that there was no use in trying to deny it. She was right, Kurt could have easily gone to the internet instead of using precious time and gas to get there. He stifled a sigh and turned around to face Santana. He wasn't surprised to see her smirking at him, clearly enjoying having called him out so easily.

"All right then, what are you grinning at me for? You want to show me around this place, so do it."

"With pleasure, Mr. Hummel." Santana turned and led Kurt through a door beside the reception desk that he hadn't previously noticed.

The area through the door was much like what Kurt had already seen. It was dark and modestly decorated but still expensive-looking. The only difference was the addition of doors on each side of the hallway. Each door was made of glass and Kurt was suddenly reminded of the pictures he's seen of Amsterdam's Red Light District. The only difference was that there were men behind the doors instead of women.

"Right then, so that sweet young thing right there is Craig. He's twenty-two and he's good at just about everything, though he prefers to let his mouth do most of the work."

Santana gestured to the first door on their right and Kurt saw a young man lounging on a four-poster bed with a notepad. He had dirty blond and from what Kurt could tell, he was very well built. It also helped that he wore a fitted tank top and gym shorts. Craig winked and blew a kiss to Kurt as he and Santana passed his door.

"And this one over here is Brett. He's twenty-four and _very _flexible. It looks like he's a little busy right now, which is good. Now you can see him in action."

Kurt stepped towards the next door and felt his blood have an internal battle over whether it wanted to rush north or south. When Santana said that he was busy, he'd expected to see someone reading, or painting, or even knitting! Instead, Brett was being thoroughly fucked by another client. Kurt cocked his head and raised a surprised eyebrow. Well, Santana certainly wasn't lying when she said that he was flexible.

The rest of this bizarre tour continued in the same fashion. Santana would give the names and ages of each man, listing any special qualities or talents that they possessed. Some would be lounging, playing instruments, or entertaining a client. Kurt couldn't say that he wasn't aroused at this point. But he was human, he couldn't help it. By the time they reached the last of the doors, Santana turned to face him.

"Okay, so this last one is the new kid. His name is Blaine and he's twenty-six. Not many go for the older boys but there are always a few who have From the feedback I've gotten about him, he's a stubborn one but at the end of the day, he'll still play his role. Though he's been here for about a month, he's taking a bit longer to break in than I'd like."

Kurt made a vague sound of acknowledgement and stepped forward to look through Blaine's door. The first thing he noticed was the mop of dark hair. Blaine was stretched out on his bed with his hands clasped behind his head and his legs crossed at the ankles. He looked like he was sleeping and Kurt seized the opportunity to let his eyes rake over Blaine's body.

He wore a black tee shirt and grey sweatpants. Kurt, well aware of the fact that he's just seen a plethora of attractive men, didn't understand why he was suddenly straining against his pants. It was embarrassing, to say the least.

Perhaps it was the way Blaine's shirt was stretched against his chest. Or maybe it was the way his shirt was lifted barely an inch above the waistband of his sweatpants to let a strip of skin tease through. Kurt chalked it up to not having been laid in longer than he cared to remember and his body was only reacting to the stimulation in front of him.

"You can go in if you want." Santana's voice jarred through Kurt's musings. For a moment, as he was blatantly staring at Blaine, he forgot that Santana even existed.

"What?" Santana rolled her eyes at Kurt's intelligent response before stepping forward to unlock the door. He didn't remember seeing her with the key before and he really didn't want to consider where she'd stored it.

"Go on in and have a little chat with him. I'll be back later."

Before Kurt could protest, she pushed him through the open door with more force than Kurt thought was necessary. Santana closed the door behind Kurt and waved cheekily at him before disappearing down the hall.

Kurt sighed and took in his surroundings. The room was bigger than he'd thought it would be, given that only part of it was visible from the outside. There was a desk in the corner diagonal from the bed and two doors next to the desk. Kurt assumed one was a bathroom and the other was a closet.

"Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to fuck me and get it over with?"

Kurt turned to the bed and saw Blaine watching him through one open eye. He hadn't moved an inch and the look on his face told Kurt that he really didn't care what happened either way.

"Look, Blaine, this is just some big misunder-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, this is a mistake or whatever. Your friends decided to drop you off as a joke and now you want to leave. Or maybe you got lost and you just wanted to use the phone. Whatever your excuse is, it doesn't change the fact that you're still standing in this room despite the fact that the door is unlocked and you've had more than enough time to leave."

Kurt was at a loss for words. Kurt was _never _at a loss for words. Usually, if anyone dared to interrupt him, he'd immediately cut them down to size with a few scathing remarks. But this was not one of those times. Instead, he stood rooted to the spot as he watched Blaine finally rise from his bed.

"Let me make this easier for both of us."

Without warning, Blaine began to strip. He never looked away from Kurt, audaciously maintaining eye contact as he revealed himself. It was a short affair, since he only wore two articles of clothing. He quickly pulled his top over his head and pulled his sweatpants down. Kurt knew he shouldn't be surprised by the fact that Blaine went commando. He was, however, surprised at by Blaine's physique.

Kurt forced himself to swallow as he took in Blaine's form. He was maybe an inch or two shorter than Kurt. Blaine was all lean muscle that clearly hinted at the ability to take care of himself. Kurt's eyes had a mind of their own and steadily traveled down Blaine's body. He tried to avert his eyes once they landed on Blaine's cock, but they weren't having any of that. Even though Blaine wasn't aroused, Kurt was sure that he would need both hands to properly jerk him off.

'What the hell? Where did that come from?' Kurt didn't get a chance to ponder his sudden change in thoughts when Blaine suddenly stepped forward and began pushing him backwards. Kurt felt the backs of his knees hit what he assumed was a chair that he hadn't noticed before. Blaine, with more force than Kurt anticipated, kept pushing until Kurt was seated.

Blaine immediately dropped to his knees and quickly undid Kurt's pants. All thoughts of protest and stopping this from going any further flew from Kurt's mind as soon as Blaine's warm hand reached inside his boxer briefs.

Kurt didn't even realize that he was half hard until Blaine had I'm in a firm grip. It didn't take long for Kurt to become fully aroused and, once he was, Blaine's hand was quickly replaced with his mouth.

"Oh yessss," Kurt hissed. He let his head fall back as he focused on the sensation of Blaine's tongue working him over. Kurt wasn't completely sure, but he was willing to bet that he did feel Blaine smirk around his cock, taking him as deep as possible before slowly coming up until just the head was between his lips.

Kurt managed to pry his eyes open and look down at Blaine, only to see that Blaine was already looking at him. He never broke eye contact with Kurt as he continued his slow torture, doing absolutely filthy things with his mouth and tongue. Kurt couldn't keep the staring contest going and shut his eyes when Blaine dipped his tongue into the slit, eagerly lapping up every drop of precome that he could reach. All Kurt could do was lose himself in the sensation of Blaine reducing him into a pile of putty in a chair.

Soon enough, perhaps too soon for Kurt's liking, he was snapped back to reality when Blaine stood up and rolled a condom onto Kurt's saliva-slicked cock.

'W-wait,' Kurt panted when Blaine moved to straddle him. He would have liked for his voice to be a bit steadier but that wasn't important right now. 'You aren't prepared.' Regardless of Blaine's profession, Kurt wasn't about to cause Blaine any discomfort.

Blaine regarded Kurt with an unreadable look before he smirked.

"Aw, how sweet. It's almost like you care about me. But I understand. It would be a real mood-killer if I just started bleeding all over your cock." Kurt winced at the visual and Blaine found himself amused by Kurt's reaction. Just because he was about to get fucked by this guy didn't mean that he had to be polite. "Seriously, did you really think that my hands were idle while I was sucking you off?" Blaine didn't give Kurt a chance to respond before he promptly lowered himself onto Kurt's cock.

They both gasped after Blaine's sudden movement. Kurt immediately had Blaine's hips in a vice-like grip to keep Blaine still and to prevent himself from thrusting ruthlessly into Blaine. Blaine sat completely still, trying to adjust to the feeling of being filled so completely. It had been a while since he'd had a client and, even though he'd taken care to prepare himself, he was still unused to being so thoroughly _filled. _

Kurt wasn't faring much better. He would be the first to admit that it's been a while since he's had sex, but he didn't realize how long and how much he'd missed being completely engulfed in such an utterly hot and _tight _body.

'How on earth did I survive for so long without this?' Kurt wondered to himself. While he was never one to actively seek out sex, and still wasn't, despite his current position, Kurt wasn't actively avoiding it either. Due to his demanding career, he simply didn't have time to find someone he liked enough to have sex with.

Blaine was the first to move, wrenching Kurt from his thoughts. He slowly rolled his hips, biting his lips to keep the low moan from escaping. The last thing he wanted to do was give Kurt the impression that he was actually enjoying this. After all, he was just doing his job.

But still, out of all the men that Blaine has been with before then, he could already tell that Kurt was one to remember, even if he wasn't quite sure why just yet.

Kurt was brought back to reality when Blaine slightly moved above him. His hands traveled along Blaine's sides as Blaine set a slow and languid pace. It was a sweet torture that left Kurt simultaneously wanting to reach his climax as quickly as possible and make it last forever. However, Kurt, not one to be a passive participant, decided to meet Blaine's hips with a quick thrust of his own and was pleased to hear Blaine gasp in response.

Kurt raised his head and was met with Blaine staring directly at him. One eyebrow was raised and while he continued to rock in Kurt's lap, he was clearly challenging Kurt. Kurt had an answering smirk of his own. Kurt Hummel was never one to back down from a challenge.

Kurt's hands returned to Blaine's hips and all but stilled his movements. Kurt began pumping into Blaine in earnest, relishing the feeling of him greedily accepting each thrust. Blaine allowed himself to succumb to the feel of Kurt's hips snapping up to meet his. He was still trying to hold in his moans of pleasure, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge his own enjoyment. He wasn't doing as well as he would have liked and couldn't help the quiet whimper that escaped whenever Kurt hit his prostate.

Kurt must have sensed his determination and resolved to break it as quickly as he could. He could tell from the way that Blaine sometimes let a small whine escape from between his still-swollen lips, that he was enjoying this just as much as Kurt was. Kurt doubled his efforts, aiming for Blaine's prostate on every thrust. He fully intended to make Blaine fall apart.

Kurt vaguely wondered why it mattered so much to him that a prostitute get off. After all, wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? He chalked it up to a mild feeling of guilt. He never actually asked for this and he supposed that it was best if they both got some enjoyment out of this.

Kurt landed a particularly hard thrust against Blaine's prostate and Blaine couldn't help the surprised cry that tore from his throat. Kurt took this as encouragement and suddenly grabbed Blaine's neglected cock. He stroked it slowly, in complete contrast to his rapid thrusts. He wanted Blaine to come before he did. He _needed _to see him let go.

Blaine wasn't sure which sensation to focus on. Between Kurt's warm and slightly damp hand on his cock and the relentless assault on his prostate, Blaine knew that he wasn't going to last longer. He also knew that he was steadily leaning closer to Kurt's lips, desperate to taste them.

Blaine knew that his train of thought was a terrible idea. In his profession, kissing on the lips wasn't necessarily forbidden, but it certainly didn't happen often. Everyone knew where a whore's mouth has been. But, despite the warning bells blaring in his mind, Blaine couldn't bring himself to care at that moment.

He was close and he wanted nothing more than to feel Kurt's lips on his own. Blaine didn't have to wait much longer.

Kurt leaned forward, his short, rapid pants ghosting across Blaine's lips. They shared a breath before Kurt whispered, "Come for me, Blaine."

Blaine didn't need to be told twice. He crashed his lips against Kurt's, forcing Kurt to swallow his scream as he came _hard._

Kurt barely held back from his own orgasm, desperately wanting Blaine to come first. He immediately plundered Blaine's mouth, tasting every corner that Blaine had to offer. Kurt decided that Blaine tasted delicious, like nutmeg, vanilla, and _Blaine. _

Blaine knew that he'd made a mistake. He knew that, if Santana found out, there'd be hell to pay. He knew that he could probably say goodbye to this godforsaken job, and his last chance at getting his life on track along with it.

But in that moment, Blaine figured that, if he was going to lose his job over this, he might as well enjoy it. He rarely enjoyed anything any more and he was surprised that Kurt, a client like every one before him, was able to make him remember such a feeling.

Finally, Blaine pulled back from Kurt and studied his face. Kurt's hair was a mess, a little damp and completely disheveled. His lips were slightly swollen from their fierce kiss and his eyes were still glazed as Kurt blinked through his post-orgasmic high. In short, Kurt looked like he'd had a great fuck.

Upon seeing his handiwork, Blaine felt a small twinge of satisfaction. He refused to send his clients away looking anything less than thoroughly debauched.

Sighing Blaine stood up and winced at the feel of Kurt sliding out of him so easily. He knew that he would be sore tomorrow.

"I trust that you can find your way out," Blaine said as he walked into his bathroom. He didn't even look back before shutting the door.

Kurt remained in the chair, unable to fully process what just happened. He was on autopilot as he disposed of the condom and straightened out his clothes. Kurt wondered if he should wait for Blaine to come out of the bathroom so that he could explain his situation, but, at the sound of the shower running, he thought better of it.

Kurt blew out a puff of breath that he didn't realize he was holding. He suddenly felt exhausted and was in need of a very strong drink. With a last look around the room, Kurt left. He didn't bother looking Santana in the eye as he walked past the front desk. The blush on his cheeks said everything and more.

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><p><strong>AN: Well, would you look at that. We finally met Blaine! (Let's be honest, how many of you saw that coming?) Anyway, I'm pretty happy with the way this came out. As always, thank you for reading and I'd love to hear what you guys think. Until next time, dear readers!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hello, I'm sorry. Real life and other fic ideas got in the way and I just had to sort everything out. But hopefully I'll be back on track with this so I'll try to update regularly. Anyway, enough of my rambling, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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><p>Kurt didn't have a full grasp on what he'd just done until he fumbled his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his car. The drive back to his apartment passed in a haze and Kurt barely remembered unlocking his front door and stepping inside.<p>

It wasn't until flopped onto his couch that Kurt allowed himself to really think about what he'd just done. He shut his eyes in delayed embarrassment as he recalled the conversation he'd had with Santana before he left.

"_Look, I'm not the type of guy who does..." Kurt gestured helplessly around the reception area as he struggled to find his voice. "This. I'm not one to engage in this sort of activity and i'm certainly not about to start now. don't know what came over me but, really, I'm not that kind of guy."_

_Santana just stood there, leaning against the desk with a smirk playing on her lips._

"_Look, Mr. Hummel, you aren't the first, nor will you be the last guy that I've come across in the same state of denial. All of you are so uptight and pathetically high strung. Tell me, before today, when was the last time you got laid."_

_Kurt blushed to the tips of his ears as he recalled the way Blaine felt around him, on top of him. He didn't bother denying what Santana obviously already knew and settled for studying the fascinating patterns in the carpet._

"_That's what I thought," Santana said, after the silence stretched on for long enough._

_Kurt ignored the smirk that he could hear in her voice and reached for his wallet._

"_Okay fine, so it's been a while. But that doesn't mean that I'm okay with it. At least let me pay for the...services. I don't want to be an ungrateful customer."_

_Kurt had already taken out his credit card, unaware that a few bits of paper were fluttering to the ground._

_Santana waved a dismissive hand and made no move to take Kurt's outstretched card._

"_This one is on the house. I don't normally give."_

_Kurt was ready to argue with her implication that he'd be returning. but he thought better of it and sighed as he turned to leave. Truth be told, he was somewhat relieved to leave. He also didn't want to think of the charges that would have shown up on his monthly credit card statement if Santana had accepted payment._

Kurt opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling above him. How could he have been so foolish and desperate? He was practically an advocate for not needing sex in order to be happy and he'd basically shoved all of that out of the window as fiercely as he shoved his cock into Blaine-

'No. I am not going to think about this.' Kurt took a deep breath and looked around in a desperate attempt to distract himself. Normally, he would clean his apartment when he was determined to avoid thinking about something. Unfortunately, this meant that his apartment was impeccable and there was nary a speck of dust in sight.

Kurt gave up on his search, opting to take a shower. While he may not know exactly how to deal with his recent actions, there was no reason to force his personal hygiene to suffer. He curled his lips in disgust, realizing that he'd been in the same clothes for much longer than should be allowed.

He chose to ignore the fact that, if he concentrated enough, Blaine's scent faintly clung to his shirt, under the smell of sweat and sex.

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><p>Kurt spent the rest of Saturday and all day Sunday doing any and everything that he could to forget about his night with Blaine. Though his apartment was nearly spotless, due to the long hours he pulled at the office, he cleaned every corner that even suggested a speck of dust. He reorganized his extended record collection, constantly torn between whether to categorize them by year, genre, artist, or the color of the album cover.<p>

Once Monday rolled around, Kurt was determined to throw himself back into his work. He scheduled several back-to-back meetings, constantly criticized every minuscule detail of the fall collection, and continuously barked orders at Rachel with more force than necessary. By Wednesday, everyone on Kurt's floor was walking on pins and needles. None of them wanted to be the one to set him off. Just the day before, an intern who had only been with Rheinhold & Co. for three weeks made the mistake of putting three sugar cubes in Kurt's mid-afternoon tea, instead of his usual two. When he was done with her, the girl was seen running out of his office in tears and Rachel wasn't anywhere to be found for the rest of the day.

Today, she was hiding out in the break room with Tina, Mercedes' assistant, discussing the possible causes for Kurt's latest reign of terror.

"I don't know, Tina, the last time I saw him like this was back in '05 when he almost had to pull the spring couture collection because of a last-minute model mix-up," Rachel shuddered as she recalled that hectic time. "I didn't sleep for two weeks and by the time everything was sorted out, I'd sprouted three premature gray hairs!"

Tina crooned in sympathy over her coffee mug. "Maybe it has something to do with the European expansion." Tina took a sip of her coffee before continuing. "I mean, Mercedes hasn't seemed too stressed but, then again, she's always been good at keeping her stress under control."

Rachel shrugged, not really sure what could have made her boss so utterly irate over the past few days. She was used to him becoming more demanding whenever it was time for a new collection to launch but he was never this far gone. Rachel didn't have much time to dwell any further before a shout from down the hall made her blood run cold.

"RACHEL BERRY!"

The pair froze at the unmistakable sound of Kurt's voice traveling across the floor. The rapidly approaching click-click of designer shoes became louder as they drew nearer to the break room. Rachel and Tina could only stare at the doorway in horror as Kurt filled the doorframe, eyes blazing and jaw clenched.

"Rachel," he began calmly, in complete contrast to his expression. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but do I pay you to sit in here, gulping down countless cups of cheap coffee?" Kurt stepped inside, ignoring a terrified Tina rushing past him. She shot Rachel an apologetic look as she scuttled to the safety of her own desk.

"No," Rachel muttered, not daring to make eye contact with her boss. At this point, Kurt was like a whistling kettle and the last thing Rachel wanted to do was make him explode.

"So please, tell me why you are sitting in here, doing exactly that?" Kurt crossed his arms and eyed Rachel. Truth be told, he wasn't _really _upset with Rachel. Only mildly annoyed, at best. But ever since his..._incident _over the past weekend, he'd become irrationally upset over the smallest things. At least his office tirade gave him an outlet. It also ensured that work was completed quickly and efficiently. As a result, the preparations were two weeks ahead of schedule. As far as Kurt was concerned, he was killing two birds with one stone.

"Well...you see..." Rachel was stalling and they both knew it. Kurt looked at the woman sitting before him, eyes downcast and shoulders hunched over the coffee mug. He took pity on Rachel and sighed. Maybe he was being a little harsh.

"Save it, Rachel. Just get back to your desk and don't let it happen again. Lord knows you're one of the last semi-competent people on this staff and I can't afford to fire you with little more than three weeks left before Fashion Week." Kurt didn't wait for a response before he spun on his heel and strode out of the break room, smirking as he heard Rachel rush to her feet in her haste to follow him.

Once he was back in the safe haven of his office, Kurt finally allowed himself to relax. He sunk into the expensive leather of his custom made office chair and simply breathed in the scent of the imported tea that he always drank.

_I have to get a handle on myself, _he thought. Even though it was Wednesday, every time Kurt closed his eyes, he could see Blaine's eyes staring right back at him. Amused and challenging, as if Blaine thought Kurt were just another desperate joe who just wanted to get his rocks off.

_But isn't that what you are? _Kurt rolled his eyes at his annoying inner voice. Why did it always show up at the worst times? Before it could offer any more insightful dialogue, Kurt figured he'd go through his emails to take his mind off of his predicament.

The first thing he noticed sitting at the top of his inbox made his heart skip a beat. It was from Masquerade and, according to the subject line, it was an email thanking him for his business. Before he realized what he was doing, Kurt opened the email and skimmed its contents. It was clearly formatted to be sent out to hundreds of recipients at a moment's notice. But it was the last line that Kurt found himself rereading.

_While it was your first visit to Masquerade, we hope it won't be your last. We look forward to seeing you soon, Mr. Hummel._

Kurt snorted at the thought. See him soon? Sure, that was likely, considering the state that it left him in the first time. Kurt deleted the email and continued scrolling through the rest of his messages, replying when necessary. By the time he and the rest of the staff went home for the day, the email was firmly planted in the back of his mind.

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><p><strong>AN: Hm, so this was a bit of a filler. As you call can see, Kurt isn't really handling this whole situation very well. But, not to worry, he'll figure things out. Somehow. Again, I'm sorry for the delay with this chapter. I really need to set a schedule for myself. Welp, let me know what you think (feedback means a lot!). Thanks for reading!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Okay, wow. First of all, thank you all so much for the Favorites and Alerts. It's still kind of trippy to see that you guys want to keep reading this. So, hugs for everyone! *hugs!* Second, my apologies for the wait. This took forever and I know I said in the last chapter that I would try to figure out a schedule and stick to it. Well, 50% isn't such a bad thing, right? Well, anyway, enough of my rambling. On with the story!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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><p>The rest of the week was a blur for Kurt. While he slightly eased up on scaring Rachel into hysterics with his rants, he didn't care to spare the rest of his subordinates. New York Fashion Week was drawing nearer by the day and Kurt wasn't taking any chances by allowing for small mistakes to slip by. His workplace stress, coupled with his random moments of remembering his night with Blaine, had Kurt ready to fire the next intern that dared to ask him an inane question about design samples.<p>

When Kurt finally shut down his computer on Friday, he breathed a sigh of relief. Now he could finally take some time for himself, away from the idiots of his job until Monday. At least he had an evening of helping Mercedes get all dolled up for her date to distract him. Kurt just started to gather his things when his office door opened.

"Hey, are you almost ready?" Mercedes already had her coat on and her scarf bundled around her neck as she stepped into Kurt's office.

"Yes, I was just packing up," Kurt said as he packed the last few files into his briefcase.

"Good, because I'm kind of freaking out and I need you to talk me out of calling Sam and canceling." Kurt studied the mild look of panic on Mercedes' face and took a deep breath.

He'd seen this look before and he could understand why Mercedes was so wound up. Due to their workloads, dates were few and far between. So, over the years, it was only natural that they fell out of touch with the rules of the game, so to speak. From Kurt's experience with Mercedes' nerves before college exams and even now, before presentations that could make or break a contract, he certainly had his work cut out for him.

"Well, then what are we waiting for? You have a date to not-cancel!"

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><p>A few hours and several near-cancellations later, Kurt reclined on the couch, waiting for Mercedes to emerge from the bathroom in her fourth, and hopefully final, outfit. The tell-tale sound of her heels making their way into the living room alerted Kurt of her presence. When he turned around and got a look at his best friend, he couldn't stop the smile that spread across his lips.<p>

Mercedes wore a black cocktail dress made of a fine jersey that had a bit of a shimmer to it. It hugged her curves and had a belt that tied at the side of her waist. Since the dress was so simple, Mercedes chose to accessorize with a set of diamond earrings, a single stud necklace and a bracelet. Kurt picked up her black satin clutch and brought it over to her.

"You look amazing, hon," Kurt said. He kissed Mercedes on the cheek and handed her the clutch.

"You really think so?" Kurt smiled at Mercedes' obvious nervousness. He couldn't blame her. It's been quite a while since the last time either of them had a date, thanks to their jobs. He was almost as nervous as she was.

"Of course! He won't be able to keep his eyes, and maybe even his hands, off of you." Kurt wiggled his eyebrows and Mercedes swatted him playfully on the arm.

"Oh please, it will _not _be that kind of date."

"It will be if he plays his cards right."

Mercedes chuckled as she took her coat from Kurt. Though he was excited for his friend, he didn't envy her braving the New York winter night in a dress and heels.

"All right," Mercedes checked the wall clock. "He should be here any minute." Right on cue, the doorbell rang and Mercedes looked at Kurt with slight panic written all over her face.

"Hey, hey, what's this? Relax! You'll be fine! You look gorgeous, okay? Don't freak out. It's just one date. You've negotiated multimillion dollar contracts within the cutthroat fashion industry dozens of times. I think you'll be able to handle one date with the guy who's doing maintenance work on your house."

Mercedes exhaled slowly and nodded her head in agreement. "You're right, I'm just really nervous. It _has _been a while, you know."

"And that's completely fine. Now, you go on out there and get your man. I'll stick to protocol by making myself scarce and waiting the normal ten minutes before leaving, okay? That way, if you change your mind and need to bail, I'll still be here with wine and ice cream waiting."

Mercedes couldn't help but laugh. She wasn't surprised that Kurt remembered their safety plan from all the terrible dates they'd gone on in college.

"Duly noted," Mercedes said as she quickly hugged her best friend. "Wish me luck!"

"He'll need it more than you do, hon. But good luck anyway."

Mercedes took one more deep breath before walking into the entrance hall. True to his word, Kurt made way to the kitchen, far enough from the entrance hall to not be a concern, but close enough to hear whether or not things were going well.

Kurt could just make out Mercedes' voice responding to a much deeper murmur before he heard the door open and shut again.

After waiting twenty minutes at Mercedes' apartment, just to make absolutely sure that she wasn't going to bail on her date, Kurt he headed towards his own car. He didn't expect to hear from Mercedes until the next day, so that she could provide him with a play-by-play of her evening.

Once Kurt was in his car, he sat there for a few moments. He had no idea what to do for the rest of the evening. Due to his tirade at the office, there was next to no work that he needed to do, since he was already so far ahead. Drumming his fingers against the steering will, Kurt ran down the short list of possibilities. He could go home, watch reruns of old sitcoms, and order takeout. Or maybe he could use the spare key to Mercedes' apartment and reorganize her closet. He'd been trying to convince her to let him do it for months, but she refused to understand that patterns and solids needed to be in separate sections and _then _color-coded.

Kurt shook his head at his own ridiculousness. He was grasping at straws now. _Besides, what if she comes back with her date? Do you really want to be there for that? _There was that annoying voice again, shooting down any attempts that Kurt made to sort himself out. But it was right. Kurt finally started his engine and settled on going out on his own.

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><p>Fifteen minutes later, Kurt was seated at one of his favorite bars, sipping casually on his drink. He surveyed the crowd, taking in the multitude of patrons both young and not-so-young, dancing lewdly enough to question whether some of them were simply having sex on the dance floor. Draining the rest of his drink, Kurt turned back to the bar and signaled for another. He wasn't out to get completely drunk tonight, but with the way his week had gone, he wasn't completely against the idea either.<p>

The bartender placed Kurt's new drink in front of him and heard a voice speak up beside him.

"I've got his drinks for the rest of the night." Kurt turned to owner of the voice with a bewildered look, before glancing back at the bartender.

"It's all right, I've got them."

"I insist," by the tone of his voice, the man wasn't about to give in any time soon. The bartender shrugged and went to attend to another patron down the bar.

Kurt studied the man beside him and noted that he wasn't bad looking. He had dark hair, warm brown eyes and wore a navy blue blazer with a crisp white button-down shirt._ He just might be the distraction that I've been looking for, _Kurt mused.

"Thank you," he started. "You didn't have to do that you know."

The man smiled. "Of course I didn't. But I wanted to. Besides, I'm not the type to leave a gorgeous guy sitting alone at a bar, buying his own drinks."

"Oh, really?" Kurt had to smile at the obvious come-on. But at least he was straightforward. "So what type are you, mister…"

"Collins. Brandon Collins, But I hope you don't insist on calling me Mr. Collins. I'll start looking around for my father."

"All right, Brandon, duly noted. I'm Kurt." Brandon took Kurt's offered hand and held it for a touch longer than what Kurt would have expected.

"It's nice to meet you, Kurt." Brandon finally dropped Kurt's hand and turned to his own drink. "So tell me, what's a guy like you doing here alone on a Friday night? You don't strike me as someone who would have a problem getting any guy he wanted."

_I could say the same for you, _Kurt thought. _But then again, maybe I can't, since you're clearly trying too hard right now._

Kurt smiled around his drink, taking a long sip before speaking. "Well, between work and trying to squeeze in time to eat and sleep, there isn't much of a chance for a social life," he answered honestly.

The conversation between Kurt and Brandon flowed smoothly. They drank, they laughed, Brandon showered Kurt with shameless compliments and Kurt continued to graciously accept and occasionally return them. All and all, Kurt was having a lovely evening and, for the first time in a week, he didn't have to forcefully banish thoughts of hazel eyes and curly hair from his mind. Instead, Kurt was much more interested in finding out what the dark eyes and straight hair in front of him would look like from a much lower position.

Not ten minutes later, Kurt and his impromptu date clumsily stumbled into the bathroom, their lack of coordination aided by copious amounts of alcohol and arousal. Kurt collided with a solid body behind him and turned to see a slightly older man glaring disapprovingly at the pair of them. He brushed past them to wash his hands and stalked out of the restroom, muttering something about 'horny kids who couldn't keep it in their pants.'

"Looks like someone is jealous," Kurt said as he locked the door.

Brandon, giggled and began planting sloppy kisses along Kurt's jaw, while backing him into a stall. He turned them around so that Kurt was leaning against the door of the stall. Kurt let his head drop back against the door, enjoying the feeling of Brandon's hands sneaking beneath his shirt, skimming across his torso. Kurt tangled his hands in Brandon's hair, pulling him up for another messy kiss.

They moaned simultaneously at the contact. Kurt could taste the alcohol from the drinks he'd consumed earlier. Their breaths mingled as they broke apart, only to stare at each other for a moment before reacquainting themselves with each other's lips. Kurt groaned as Brandon pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it slightly before sucking on it to soothe the mild sting.

Brandon pulled back again and reattached his lips to Kurt's neck. Through his alcohol and lust-induced haze, Kurt was sure that he'd have an obscene amount of hickeys in the morning.

That thought soon flew from his mind as Brandon moved down Kurt's body while his hand steadily palmed the hardness in Kurt's jeans.

"Ooh, someone's a bit eager, aren't they?" Brandon cooed in what Kurt assumed was supposed to be a sexy voice.

"Hm, well I hope you plan on doing something about it instead of making pointless conversation."

Brandon just grinned up at Kurt before unzipping Kurt's jeans and pushing aside his boxers. Kurt hissed at his cock's newfound freedom. Apparently it agreed from the way it twitched when Brandon's hot breath ghosted across the head.

All at once, Brandon drew Kurt's cock into his mouth, taking it as far as it would go, and using is spit-soaked hand to cover the rest. He sucked hard as he drew back so that only the head was between his lips.

Kurt once again let his head rest on the door behind him and closed his eyes, content to simply _feel. _However, once he did, Kurt couldn't help but think that the blowjob, though quite pleasurable, was missing something.

Kurt closed looked down at the dark head bobbing below him. No, this was all wrong. The hair was far too straight. The eyes staring back at him with a supposedly sultry look were much too dark. Kurt clamped his eyes shut, desperate to ward off the impending thought. Instead, he was greeted by the memory of Blaine in the same position, only he was much, much more desirable.

It was Blaine's face that replaced Brandon's. Blaine's eyes that challenged Kurt to keep a hold on the control that he so desperately clung to. Blaine's lips that curled into a smirk at Kurt's losing battle. Blaine's name that tumbled past Kurt's lips as he came _hard _down someone else's willing throat, eagerly swallowing around his cock.

Kurt sagged against the stall door, refusing to further embarrass himself by sliding to the germ-riddled floor beneath him. As he fought to catch his breath, he Brandon -_not Blaine- _slowly rise to his feet.

"Well, shit. I know I'm good but, I have to ask, who is Blaine?" Kurt studied Brandon's face. He didn't look upset or even mildly annoyed; just slightly curious as he waited for Kurt's answer.

"No one," Kurt dismissed before he turned to unlock the stall and walked to the row of sinks. _God, I look like shit. _Even from his reflection, Kurt could tell that he'd be nursing one hell of a hangover in the morning.

He quickly fastened his jeans and washed his hands, splashing cold water on his face. When Kurt looked up, he saw his companion staring at him expectantly.

"It didn't sound like 'no one' to me," He started as he pressed his body behind Kurt. Honestly, Kurt was in no mood to deal with this guy. He just wanted to get home and pass out on his always welcoming bed. Unfortunately, from the hardness that was pressed against the curve of Kurt's ass, his no-longer-welcome companion had other plans.

"By the end of the night, you'll be screaming my name instead." Kurt almost snorted at his pathetic attempt to sound sexy. Even through is current drunken state, Kurt could tell that Brandon's looks did nothing to make up for his sleazy personality.

"Not likely," Kurt muttered as he sidestepped the less than subtle shallow thrusts from the hips behind him.

"What? So you're just going to leave?"

Kurt was already unlocking the bathroom door, well aware of the angry yelling on the other side, before he turned around.

"It certainly seems that way doesn't it?" He nodded to the obvious bulge in his pants. "You might want to take care of that." Kurt then opened the door to reveal a line of irate men glaring at him.

"Sorry boys, we must have lost track of time. It's all yours now." Kurt ducked between the men, ignoring the scathing looks tossed his way.

"He needed fresh air. After downing the last of his now extremely watered down drink and grabbing his belongings from the coat room, Kurt stepped out into the bitter night air. His breath clouded in small puffs in front of him as he took a deep breath, grateful for the chill of the crisp breeze across his overheated skin.

_I can't drive home like this, _Kurt thought. _I might as well take the train and get my car in the morning. _Kurt bundled his scarf a little tighter around his neck and bowed his head agains the unforgiving wind.

Ten minutes and several dodged drunken groups later, Kurt found himself on a familiar street, two blocks from the train station. A quick look around made Kurt drop his head in defeat. This could _not _be happening. He couldn't _possibly _be in the same place that he was just a week ago, before all of this nonsense started.

Kurt lifted his head again and stared at the building across the street. The reason for his distraction and absurdly short temper during the past week was in that building. The reason for the nights that he spent waking up half hard to fading images of eyes that said everything was behind that door. The very door that Kurt was opening before he had the chance to register that he was walking across the street in the first place. Heaving a sigh of resignation, Kurt continued into the unfortunately familiar building.

_I suppose it couldn't hurt to pay him another visit. Maybe I just need to get him out of my system to get my life back under control. _That was Kurt's rationalization for his increasing pattern of bad decision-making and he was sticking to it, thank you very much.

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><p><strong>AN: Who doesn't love some good, old-fashioned, drunken!bathroom!smut? So how did you all like the way Kurt handled his situation? Are you surprised that he **_**somehow **_**ended up back at Masquerade? Whatever your thoughts/reactions are, I'd love to hear them. Thank you for reading!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Wow. Yeah. No, really. I'm not even going to bother explaining. I'm so sorry.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee.**

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><p>Kurt couldn't ignore the surprise he felt at his own ability to navigate the labyrinth of hallways in his inebriated state. He only collided with the walls twice as he made his way to the reception desk, releasing a breath that he didn't realize he was holding once he caught sight of it.<p>

However, what little, irrational bit of relief Kurt might have felt, immediately disappeared when he focused on the woman in front of him.

"Mr. Hummel, welcome back." Santana didn't bother trying to hide her amusement at Kurt's condition.

"Yeah, yeah," Kurt groused, waving his hand at Santana's overly polite tone. "We both know why I'm here, no matter how much I don't want to be. So just cut to the chase and lead the way. Please." Santana smirked at Kurt's annoyed tone and his sarcastic addition at the end of his sentence.

"As you wish, Mr. Hummel." Santana turned and walked down the vaguely familiar path before stopping all too soon for Kurt's taste.

Santana unlocked the door and pushed it open and made her way back down the hall, leaving Kurt standing just beyond the threshold. A moment later, Kurt stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. He tried to ignore the stifling silence of the room, as he turned to look at Blaine.

"Shall I venture a guess towards what brings you here?" It wasn't a real question and they both knew it. Even in the haze of his alcohol-muddled mind, Kurt couldn't miss the tone of boredom that permeated Blaine's voice. That tone irked him and Kurt didn't bother wondering why he had any sort of reaction to it, but he did.

"Look, I don-"

"If you're going to start spouting off some bullshit about how you don't want to be here and this is all a mistake, save your breath," Blaine cut him off in that same irksome bored tone.

Kurt ignored the slight twinge of hurt at the way Blaine cut across him. It wasn't as though he really wanted to be there any more than Blaine wanted him to be. This was just the result of his subconscious telling him that he was apparently more attracted to Blaine than he was ready to admit. Thus, in order to nip the problem in the bud, before it got too out of hand, Kurt would simply have to sleep with Blaine one last time before never again returning to this establishment.

"Look," Kurt started again with more force. "I can assure you that I don't want to be here-" Blaine snorted and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'and yet, here you are.'

"But, due to an incident that I don't wish to recount, I've found myself back in this godawful place."

Blaine shifted so that he was fully looking at Kurt. While glad that he finally had Blaine's complete attention, something in his stare made Kurt wish that he would look away.

"Anyway," he continued quickly. "I figured that if I came back once more, I could just get you out of my system and we could continue on with our lives without ever crossing paths again."

Blaine said nothing when Kurt was finished. It was a full thirty seconds before he rose from the bed with deliberate movements and approached Kurt. He didn't stop until he was well within Kurt's personal space. But then, given the nature of the situation, that was kind of the point.

Their movements were nothing like the first encounter. Hands tore angrily at clothes, lips mashed together in a fury of tongue and teeth and far too much saliva and far too little air passing between them. Flurried movements and stumbling feet led them to the bed, onto which their bodies flopped unceremoniously.

Blaine straddled Kurt's thighs and leaned over to lick a long stripe up the side of Kurt's neck.

"How do you want me?" he breathed hotly in Kurt's ear.

Kurt turned his head to properly look at Blaine. His eyes were nearly black and even then, Kurt could see the ever-present challenge in them. As though Blaine were constantly ready to mock Kurt for everything he is.

In that moment, Kurt knew that he not only wanted to take Blaine, but he wanted to completely and utterly dominate him. He wanted to make Blaine remember him. He wanted to ingrain himself into Blaine's memory the way the other man seemed to have wormed his way into his own.

Had Kurt been thinking clearly, instead of letting his thoughts tumble through the haze of alcohol and lust, he would have stopped to ask himself why it was so important that Blaine remember him. Due to his profession, it was highly unlikely that Blaine remembered anyone beyond the amount of time that it took them to pull their pants back up and make a quick exit. But, as it was, Kurt wasn't thinking clearly at all.

"On your hands and knees," Kurt demanded. Something flashed in Blaine's eyes and he had the barest hint of a smirk on his lips as he complied.

"That's it," Kurt murmured as he took in Blaine's willing body, propped up and on display for his hungry gaze. "Do you have any idea how irresistible you are like this?" Kurt ducked his head to nip at the smooth skin of Blaine's ass while blindly searching for lube and condoms in the nightstand.

"I think I have a pretty good idea," Blaine gasped as Kurt eased a slick finger into him.

"You have no idea how often I've imagined this over the past week. You, on display for me, completely mine for the taking." Kurt breathed, working another finger into him.

Blaine didn't respond, instead letting out a low moan as Kurt continued to work him open, barely grazing his prostate as a third finger entered him.

"You know," Blaine gasped as he rocked back onto Kurt's fingers. "For someone so eager to fuck me, you're sure taking your time with it." He tossed a cheeky grin over his shoulder, pleased to see Kurt's eyes narrow at the obvious challenge.

"If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you're just as eager for it. But no matter, I think you're good and ready for me." Kurt made quick work of his belt and pushed his pants and boxer briefs down in one go to reveal his erection. Blaine couldn't help but lick his lips at the sight of Kurt's flushed cock, already slick at the head with precome.

"Oh no, I've got other plans for you," Blaine's gaze met Kurt's amused expression and he didn't bother feigning embarrassment over being caught staring. "Maybe you'll get a taste next time," Kurt said as he rolled on the condom and generously applied lube and stood behind Blaine.

Neither man commented on the implications of Kurt's statement as he smoothly entered Blaine.

Twin moans filled the room as Kurt gently pushed forward until he was fully seated. Were Kurt's knees not supported by the edge of the mattress, he surely would have slipped to the ground. Blaine breathed slowly as his arms struggled to hold his weight in light of the sensations. Once the familiar sting gave way to the equally familiar yet infinitely more welcome pleasure, Blaine pushed back against Kurt. He wasn't disappointed to receive a startled gasp in return.

Kurt needed no further encouragement than Blaine's wordless demand and slowly drew back until just the head of his cock remained inside Blaine. He waited half a beat before slamming back into Blaine almost punishingly and was rewarded with a choked off moan.

The pair soon built up a rhythm with Kurt pounding into Blaine with barely restrained bruising force and Blaine meeting Kurt's hips eagerly. It was frantic, sweaty, and the absolute definition of pure fucking. The room was filled wit the faint sound of the bed springs creaking and the filthy slap of skin against skin.

Kurt draped himself over Blaine's back, pinning the smaller man to he bed and trapping the heat and sweat between their bodies. He worked his hand between Blaine's hips and the bed, leaving sloppy kisses and small bite marks along the juncture where Blaine's neck met his shoulder. There was no grace or finesse in their movements. Blaine frantically thrust into Kurt's sweaty palm, with breathy moans tumbling past his lips to fill the otherwise silent room.

Kurt could tell that Blaine was close to coming and he wasn't far off himself. Before he knew what he was doing, Kurt placed a particularly harsh bite just at the base of Blaine's neck. Almost immediately, Blaine went still and arched his back against Kurt as he opened his mouth in a silent scream. The feeling of Blaine clenching around him catapulted Kurt straight into his own orgasm, and he rocked helplessly into Blaine as the pair rode out the waves of their climaxes.

Much sooner than either one if them would have liked, the rapidly cooling fluids became far too uncomfortable to ignore. Without speaking, Kurt rolled off of Blaine and immediately began to look for something to clean himself up with.

Catching sight of the box of tissues on the nightstand, Kurt made quick work of wiping himself off before handing them to Blaine.

The pair avoided eye contact as they redressed themselves, stubbornly refusing to say anything to each other. Blaine didn't bother with putting his shirt back on as he began to strip the bed of its sheets.

Kurt debated on offering to help Blaine for a moment before completely discarding the idea. Given Blaine's overall demeanor, Kurt highly doubted that he'd receive a positives reaction.

Shrugging on his jacket and doing a quick sweep of the room, Kurt wondered whether he should say anything at all before he left, _hopefully for good this time_, his mind unhelpfully supplied.

"Unless you're looking to stay for another round, you should probably leave." Blaine didn't bother to glance at Kurt has he retrieved the blankets and pillows from the floor.

"Trust me, another round is the last thing I want from you." Kurt mentally kicked himself for his response. He figured, in Blaine's profession, verbal degradation was probably normal. But that didn't mean that he wanted to _become_ one of those people. It's just that Blaine had a particular way of getting under Kurt's skin and he didn't quite understand it.

"So. Get. Out." Blaine finally looked at Kurt and the full force of his loathing for the man at his door was obvious in his gaze.

Kurt didn't trust himself to speak again and instead turned to open the door. Once he'd finally crossed the threshold, he lingered for a split second, almost turning to glance back at Blaine. The only thing that stopped him was the chance that he might be met with Blaine's abhorrent expression.

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><p><strong>AN: Welp, that's it for now, folks. If you're still here after all this time, bless you. If you're new, welcome! Hopefully I'll see you guys sooner, rather than later this time.**


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